BCJch38

Eugene could hear the war drums and howls for violence from his office in the cultivation research building. A small notebook on body cultivation made from what he could pry from Silas’s mess of a text was slowly being copied by his hand. A kettle of hot spirit water bubbled in the corner.

Eugene breathed in the new building smell as Yoshino left, and Franklin, his assistant and test subject, made his way inside. While Franklin wasn’t a genius, as Silas would put it, the man was a hard worker, and that was respectable. However, he had proven less talented in qi cultivation, so Eugene decided to use him to trial and error his way through body cultivation. In essence, it involved putting the body through stress using spiritual materials as fuel to cause adaptations.

“Franklin put a scoop of Earl Gray in a cup and poured the tea,” Eugene said.

He let the ink dry on the page and pulled out an accounting book for the growing yield of farm animals, mainly chickens, cows, and pigs. They have been breeding and consuming supplies all year round, nearly putting them into the red. News of future trade possibilities had made this easier to take. If only Silas would stop messing around and create a flying contraption, they could shore up their feed issues.

With the takeover of the Douglass lands filed with the nearby town, their grazing pasture and fertile fields had drastically increased. As a result, the pigs and cows had gone out fertilizing in excess.

“Methinks thou should help deal with the savages,” Franklin said.

It was a bold thing to say, and Eugene wasn’t against a little boldness from his servants. So long as Franklin didn’t overstep himself, Eugene would tolerate it.

“Have you changed out the Douglass farmhouse torches with formation-lined glass bulbs? We don’t have the oil to spare for wasteful torches.” Eugene said.

He ignored the statement. There was no reason to interfere with Silas’s games. A few hundred savages were no match for the cultivator, nor was the fullbringer. Eugene could feel the difference in their spiritual power. While the fullbringer had the edge in strength, Silas specialized in stripping power. This was home territory fortified against invading hollows and demon beasts. Unfortunately, getting in wasn’t as easy as crossing a fence.

“He will be slaughtered,” Franklin said.

Eugene looked over the supply of spirit herbs. He found they had finally grown enough to produce more Lazurus liquid, possibly enough for 500 bodies.

“This reprisal was expected; we discussed it and even planned countermeasures. I would have joined him for the prebattle size up if I thought my presence was needed.” Eugene said.

The bount closed his book of accounts and turned the page of the body cultivation copy.

Franklin had endured a lot to begin crossing the pre-natal gap between mortal and natal body cultivator. Scars covered the man’s black skin from fights with captured wolves, lashes from a bullwhip, and rubbing hot ash over his skin. Each time they completed a process, they rubbed a salve over his wounds, and he healed quickly, growing stronger with each injury. It was unfortunate that the initial tempering was so rough.

Eugene had barely grasped the Dao of botany described in Silas’s ravings. He had found after many attempts that ki cultivation was impossible for him, but when one door closed, another opened. Body refinement was a path to power he chased after eagerly. It was difficult to resist his body’s natural desire to heal with reishi, but he could wait for the salve and gain from it. While he couldn’t become a classic cultivator, he could refine his body and mind.

For the latter, Dotty was the head of research, much to his disappointment, and the spirit beast diligently chased after the secrets of mind cultivation.

Silas seemed busy with natural cultivation grasping Dao, and experimenting with spirit stones to create ever-greater wonders. Eugene tossed a spirit stone in his mouth like hard candy. His body had begun pulling it into himself automatically. It wasn’t the natural pull of a bount but the tempered pull of his body refinement.

“Then why is he alone with one of thy people instead of a disciple?” Franklin said.

He could tell the man was a little upset that Eugene was in charge and not a disciple. Unfortunately, Eugene didn’t have the heart to tell the man that Silas had somewhat given up on the 5 freed slaves and given them women to keep them obedient. It was a good move, but it made them think Silas cared about them more than he did.

Silas had a burning desire for people to ease the burden of his loneliness. Eugene felt it in every action Silas took. If these freedmen can’t become real cultivators, perhaps children raised in the culture can. Eugene would have tried it centuries ago if it were possible for bounts to reproduce.

“Thou art weak, and instead of bitterly cultivating, thou spend time with wives who nag thee about thy position. If thou want to become strong enough to take my position, then become stronger.” Eugene said.

“Thou art not with Silas either,” Franklin said.

None considered this group a threat, even with a fullbringer in their ranks. An army of trash was still trash. Even after barely stepping into body refinement, Eugene felt a difference. He could lift a cow with one hand and toss it over a barn if he wanted to. The strength of the heavens and the earth suffused his body, strengthened further by his partial Shinigami soul. One of his people who had stepped on the path of body cultivation was an overbearing force. So, he wasn’t afraid of a few hundred mortal men incapable of hopping a fence that didn’t reach his shoulders.

“I am already aware of the deal he is prepared to give to divide them against their people, and I am ready when it falls through to raid and process the spoils,” Eugene said.

…

Jericho, 1 month before the spring, visiting Low Delaware

His sword of the spirit swung all night through the demons that swarmed him on his flight from the safety of the warm long house to Low Delaware. Silver flashes preceded his advancement with the painful cries of the red-eyed demon wolves on his hills and leaping from tall trees. God hadn’t abandoned his people, and Jericho would fight while he had breath in his body. He had to return to the town where the woman he loved lived to get her favor before the fight.

A beastly clawed hand slashed his horse's neck before he sliced it off at the wrist. Then, with lightning speed, he withdrew his blade and stabbed into the demon’s chest, and flames enveloped his sword as the demon burned. More of the beasts gathered, and soon he was surrounded by his dying horse as blood gushed from its neck.

The wound healed before Jericho’s eyes, and a dark taint settled into his once pure steed.

Jericho took mercy on his horse first and finished it off before throwing himself at the encirclement. He fought as they slashed between the weak points in his armor and wore him down. His blood soaked his undershirt as he fought and felt his faith grow stronger. With every enemy slain, the lord granted him more strength to keep going.

His belt of truth increased his strength, and soon, he ran faster on the road than the wind. All the while, his helmet of salvation restored his strength and healed his wounds. His shoes of readiness were stronger than ever, and he moved with speed much greater than any horse. Though he lost a great friend to the demons, god blessed him with his grace and might. He felt the breastplate of righteousness shift on his chest, changing to better fit and protect him.

Soon he arrived at the town expecting the demons to have overrun the guards and break-in, only they were fine. Men he didn’t recognize stood at attention, eyes fully vigilant and their skin pale. While they wore a soldier's dress, his belt of truth wouldn’t be fooled.

A beam of light shot out from his belt, and the demons exposed themselves with their burning flesh. He saw their black-eyed hungry gaze as they stared at him with the reason of beasts. He held up his shield of faith and felt light from the lord gather within, even in the dead of night.

“Behold the power of god,” Jericho said as light erupted from his shield in a beam blasting the guards.

He heard them scream and relished the sound of evil being punished, imagining the poor sinners in hell sounded like them. Once the light faded, he moved in with the sword of the spirit and cut their heads off. The bodies fell, and black eyes stared down at him with murderous intention from atop the gate.

“Open the gate or come down and face me, demon. I do not fear the forces of Satan.” Jericho Cain said.

“Mayhap thou have a mind full of maggots and eyes inked on for appearance. We art the guards of this town, and while thou were fighting, I rang the bell for the man in charge.” The demon said.

The gate opened, and he froze when he saw John, the man he wished to be his good father. “Cousin, tis good to see thou come with me and be free of the demons,” Jericho said.

“These poor people art infected with a plague created by the savages, and thou want me to come with thou savage lover,” John said, exploding with anger like god’s wrath on sinful Saddam.

John would have called him an uncivilized barbarian if he had raided native villages. But, instead, the man’s true problem was clearly with Jericho.

“This is not their doing. It is Silas, the fiend who confounded thou. He is to blame for all of this.” Jericho said, pleading with the man.

“Don’t spout that nonsense to me, boy. I know who thou consorts with, and the blood of our good guards lay at thy feet.” John said.

Jericho sheathed his blade. “I meant no offense, but the light of faith burned them, so they art against god and should be destroyed. So may the lord take their souls.” Jericho said.

The man didn’t look moved by Jericho’s words in the least. “Thou art here to beg again for my daughter’s hand without offering anything in return.”

“Please, I only want to ask for her favor before I go into battle,” Jericho said.

The man seemed to consider his words for a moment, then shook his head. Jericho was distraught until the man spoke again.

“Who art thou going into battle against another savage tribe?” John said.

He ignored the words and asked for forgiveness for the obstinate man.

“No, I go to war against Silas Flex for capturing 25 native girls and the deaths of numerous brave men. He is a villain and underserving of lady Mary’s good graces.” Jericho said.

For a moment, the man seemed taken aback, and Jericho thought he had gotten through to the stubborn man. For once, it seemed that someone understood how crooked Silas truly was. All he needed to do was wait and let the lord guide the man’s thoughts.

“A man can have as many mistresses or slaves as he can afford. My Mary will straighten him out.” John said.

That was not what Jericho wanted to hear. He gripped his sword tightly, and the demons edged closer to him; even John gave him a cold stare.

“Will thou at least let me see her?” Jericho asked.

“Why, so thou can connive to lay with her and cuckold my good son? Don’t think thou can make a fool of me and dirty my bloodline with thy common blood.” John said.

“Thou go too far, Sirrah. Silas is like me; we art both common-born orphans. What makes him different?” Jericho asked.

John looked him up and down and snorted in disgust. “Thy belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, shoes of readiness, shield of faith, helmet of salvation, and sword of the spirit offend me and my family line. The world is changing, and it has no place in it for believers like thee. Begone from here thou art not welcome in my town.”

That’s when John did something Jericho hadn’t expected. He flicked a finger, and a tornado erupted where Jericho stood and blasted him in the air before shooting him into the forest. Then, as the sun rose, his helmet of salvation absorbed enough solar energy to restore his strength. He saw a peculiar white stead with a long golden horn. Around the white steed were swords of all kinds gathered and glittering in the sunlight. The single-edged weapons radiated holy power, and he knew their use.